


Want Some Daredevil In You?

by hellpenguin



Series: Theodore [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Characters Reading Fanfiction, Coming In Pants, Couch Sex, Dirty Talk, Drunkenness, F/M, Foggy's voice, M/M, Matt's guilty pleasure, daredevil fanfiction, holy shit does Foggy have a dirty mouth, i mean like wow i did not expect to write this, jizz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4143093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellpenguin/pseuds/hellpenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is this about my sex voice? Oh my God you did say you found it online. And earlier today you asked if I had done voice work...like on your screen reader. IS MY SEX VOICE ON YOUR SCREEN READER MATT?!”</p><p>There are no more pillows on his couch. I should get more couch pillows, Matt's brain suggests.</p><p>(Matt's guilty pleasure is reading Daredevil Fanfic PWP on his screen reader, until he makes a disturbingly pleasant discovery: he can download Foggy's voice.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Matt Reads Daredevil Fanfic

The room echoes with the backdrop of near-silence Matt has come to relish. There's the almost-but-not-quite hum of the air conditioning unit in the office below them, the gentle whoosh of their desktop fan at the semi-open window. Outside, the steady thrum of Hell's Kitchen, of a city awake. Inside, though, there is only Matt. Matt, and the cool smell of a shadowy room, and his screen reader.

He boots it up, finds the bookmark. Takes a deep breath, leans back in his chair, and presses Enter.

> .. _.he relishes the slide of skin on leather, the slick sound of her hands along his suit. She finds every ridge, every divet in his armor, and, carding her fingers through his hair, removes his mask.  
>  _
> 
> _"There you are,” she sighs, breathy. and her voice sparks something in him. She runs her fingers over his face, catches the bottom of his lip with the tip of her fingernail. “Not such a scary guy now, are you?” She leans in, catching his lip in her teeth, sighs into his mouth, “Daredevil.”_

Matt slaps a key. He hears his own heart, his own blood pumping in his chest, feels at once filthy and aroused and disgusted with himself. He's listening to porn. Fanfic porn. About himself. About Daredevil.

But no one on the stairs outside the office. No footsteps, no excuses to stop himself from listening to this. Only one hitch in his pleasure: the voice.

His screen reader, normally turned to a voice that is excellent at reading court cases, makes the story sound too clinical. Too...devoid of emotion. He wonders, idly, if there's a voice you can download that's meant for... other topics. And then, because he has only himself to blame, searches for one.

He's surprised at how many there are, actually. Everything from “breathy female porn star” to “husky older man.” Matt licks his lips. He idly listens to a few samples, but finally, he finds something. It's described simply as “Theodore.” He doesn't even listen to the sample. He downloads. He opens the same fic, leans back, hits Enter.

> _...He lunges forward, catches her mouth with his, runs his hands up and under her blouse._
> 
> _She gasps, deliciously, and he growls, “I didn't choose the name.” She gasps again, his deft hands finding and unlatching her bra._

Matt stands up so quickly his chair rattles to the floor. He's panting, full of shame and guilt and something much, much worse.

Because that voice? _Theodore._ Is Foggy. Foggy's _fucking_ voice. Foggy, sounding very, very aroused. And Matt likes it. Oh, does he like it. But heading down dangerous paths has always been a kink of his. So, he inhales, shakily, and feeling so many levels of guilt about it, picks up his chair and sits back down. And, hesitantly, he hits Enter again.

> _... She practically tears off her blouse, presses herself against the hard shell of his armor as The Daredevil pushes a hand under her skirt. He finds the edge of her panties, slides-_

Matt pauses the reader, breathing hard. _Fuck it_ , he thinks, and tabs to a different bookmark, a different story. If he's really going to do this, he's going to do this right.

> _He bites the Daredevil's neck, right where it meets the shoulder. The vigilante moans, jerks his hips into the hard heat in front of him._
> 
> _“Oh, you like that? Thought you get beat up quite a lot, might want a reprieve. Guess I thought wrong.” He runs his nails along the edge of the mask, digging a little too hard._
> 
> _“You going to talk all night or fuck me?” the Masked Man grunts._

Matt's hips jerk. Suddenly, the anonymous other man in the fic does more than speak with Foggy's voice. He wears Foggy's face, too.

> _“I can do both,” he smirks, and makes to lift the mask, but he's stopped by a gloved hand. “No,” Daredevil lifts his hand to his mouth, swirls a tongue around each finger. “The rest can come off, but the mask stays on.”_

Matt's beyond shame, beyond regret. At some point he's opened the fly on his pants and got a hand around himself, messily, greedily. His other hand finds the bottle of lube in his desk drawer without his permission, and he's pulling himself as Foggy's needy voice tells the Daredevil how he likes it, how he'll take it-

> _“Let me see you,” the man grunts. Daredevil slides his hands into his waistband, gloved fingers touching his skin, not touching enough. “I want to see...under your suit.”_
> 
> _“I told you-”_
> 
> _“I know,” he pants, “The mask stays. I want...god, I want to see your body. I want to do more than see it, I want to taste it, I want-”_
> 
> _“Fuck,” Daredevil unzips the suit hastily, pulls it away from his skin. He's covered in a sheen of sweat, the flush of his arousal riding high on his cheeks. Then, with a contained aggression, he yanks at the other man's fly, sending the button flying and the zipper screeching open and he gets a hand inside and just the heat of that gloved hand is enough to make him arch and gasp._
> 
> _“I want you to come,” Daredevil orders, voice low and husky, “With my name on your lips. What's my name?”_
> 
> _“D-Daredevil,” he moans as Daredevil jerks him off, slow pulls driving him insane._
> 
> _“Say it again.”_
> 
> _“D-Dare...Devil!” The vigilante kisses him, bites his lip. He gasps into his mouth._
> 
> _“Everybody's got a little Daredevil in them. Want me to put some in you? Say. My. Name.”_
> 
> _“Daredevil! Ah!” The man comes, screaming his name._

Matt comes, too. It's messy and disgusting and feels so fucking good. He's coming back to himself when he hears a second heartbeat.

Oh shit. He knows that heartbeat. Matt frantically shuts off the screen reader and fumbles some tissues out of his lube drawer, and is barely pulling his chair up to the desk to cover the mess in his lap when the door to their office opens and Foggy walks in.


	2. So Much For Fearless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are two things Matt knows for certainty:   
> 1) He is ruined for hearing Foggy say "Daredevil" for the rest of his life, and  
> 2) He's trapped at his desk until he can figure out a way to leave because he's covered in jizz.

“Ah! Wow, Matty, you scared me. Sitting here all alone on a Sunday evening. Thought you'd be out, you know, picking up hot chicks with your super senses.”

Matt's dick twitches at his voice and _oh my God_ is that a thing now? Will he be getting off to his best friend's voice for the rest of his life?

“Hey, you okay? You look crazy red right now. Are you feeling feverish?” He hears Foggy come closer, perhaps to test his forehead, and Matt has to fight the urge to push away from the desk. How can he not smell it? The whole office smells like sex. Like him.

“I'm fine! Really, Foggy, I just...um. I got a sunburn,” He says, and winces. And then tries to control that wince because, really? Wincing?

“This is why you shouldn't go outside. Take it from me, the sun only leads to problems. Can you imagine if this,” Foggy poses, “got a tan? I'd be fighting them off.”

Foggy goes over to his desk and Matt ponders the quandary he's in. Option A: He waits until Foggy's back is turned, and then Matt makes a break for it. Option B: He tries to clean up as much of his mess as possible and then excuse himself, take back alleys and rooftops to get home. He feels for his stash of tissues and comes up empty handed. Great. Option A it is.

Foggy, after getting what he needed from his desk, returns to Matt's office. “Hey, you doing anything tonight?” His voice is nonchalant, nothing like _Theodore_ , but Matt's pulse picks up anyway.

“Um, what?” He clears his throat, keeps his hands in his lap. Grabs fistfuls of his damp trousers and tries to think of anything, anything but the way Foggy's voice is now making him feel.

“Is, you know, the _Daredevil_ going out tonight?” He drops his voice like it's their little secret, which, yes, it is, but there it is.

Foggy saying that name has hot-wired him like a cheap car. He's suddenly so painfully hard he's afraid the desk will move.

“Probably not,” Matt _tries_ to keep his voice steady, he really does, but now his senses are in overdrive, picking up the scent of his own arousal and Foggy's sweat. Mixing together in his brain to form fuel for every fantasy in his future and _Oh God_ , he's so close to just parkouring across the desk and fitting himself into all Foggy's angles like a goddamn puzzle piece. So it's safe to say his voice comes out a little thready.

“No plans? Great. Come to Josie's with me and Karen. We haven't _all three of us_ been there in too long. She's out of the Eel thing, but she's got this new one in, I can't remember the name? Karen and I discovered it, it's got this picture of a polar bear bleeding on the front. It's called something like...I don't know, Why Try? We Die? Oh! Life Cry! That's it. Life Cry.” Matt lets Foggy talk at and over him while he desperately tries to think of a way out. But then it hits him: he was already given a way out.

“Hey, buddy? Actually I am feeling a little under the weather. Would you mind getting me some soup at the deli on the corner?”

“I thought I caught a whiff of pestilence when I came in!” Foggy heads toward the door, oblivious to the frightened look on Matt's face. “You stay here, Matty, we can't have you spreading potential plague germs all over the city. With your super powers, they'd probably end up mutating into Zombie Apocalypse germs, and then where would we be? Zombies. That's where we'd be.”

As soon as he leaves, and Matt hears him far enough down the stairs, Matt leaps to action. He searches the office for the napkins he knows are somewhere, then frantically mops up any trace of his earlier activities and buries the evidence at the bottom of the trash can. Sure, _he_ can smell it, but no one else can. He gets a bit of water from the cooler and scrubs at the front of his pants.

It's not a perfect fix, but it might dry enough by the time they leave that no one will notice. Then Matt sits down again. And waits. And the silence stretches out again, like waking from a dream. The office grows colder, the sun through the window no longer warming Matt's back, and a quick touch to his watch tells him it's past sunset. He waits, listening for the familiar sound of Foggy's heart, and it's almost a surprise when his hand finds the keyboard. He focuses: no Foggy, nowhere close. He can afford to listen to something while he waits. He presses Enter.

And this time, he's prepared for the onslaught of sex that saunters out of the speakers, prepared for the way Foggy's voice makes him feel in the pit of his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to milly for the phrase "whiff of pestilence" and for encouraging me to write another chapter, despite me reluctance at being able to write in-character Foggy.


	3. Polar Bear Bleeding On The Label

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt, Karen, and Foggy go out for drinks.

Luckily Foggy doesn't notice the vague damp spot on the front of Matt's trousers. He brings the soup back, Matt eats it, declares himself fit for a trip to the bar.

Foggy also doesn't notice how stiff Matt sat in his desk chair, or how slowly he stood up. He didn't ask why Matt was white-knuckling the arms of his chair when Foggy got back with the soup, or why his face was super red again, even though his supposed “sunburn” had faded earlier. He wasn't entirely without questions on the way to Josie's, however.

“So what were you working on on a Sunday evening? Did we get a client and you just didn't tell me? _Matt_!” Foggy pressed his hand, shocked, to his chest. “I thought we were partners!”

“I was just...reading up on, um, the Daredevil. News stories and such.” He clears his throat.

“And? Has popular opinion changed in the wake of Fiskiness? Have they changed his name to the Angel of Hell's Kitchen? Dareangel doesn't have the same ring to it, though. Daredevil just sounds so much _sexier_.”

Matt chokes on spit he didn't realize he swallowed. “Um, no. No. They didn't. And it doesn't.”

“Ha! It so does. _Daredevil_ ,” and the way he drawls it out has Theodore written all over it. Matt walks a little faster, pulling Foggy along with him. “Do you dare the devil? Or does the Devil dare you?” He says it like a cheesy advertisement, but Matt still feels Foggy's voice slide all over his skin like the leather of his suit.

And then he's walking faster because he needs to sit down right. this. minute.

“Whoa there, Matt, in a hurry to drink that bleeding polar bear hooch? Can't say I blame you. It tastes like regret and the tears of a dragon. Here we go,” he pushes open the door for Matt.

“Matt!” Karen's voice is like a bright beacon in a dark ocean. She still doesn't sound herself, but Matt will figure that out later, when he has less pressing matters. “Over here!”

Foggy escorts him to the bar. He slides into a seat as familiar as the city, grateful for the overhanging bar top. He nods to Karen. “So, what's this Life Cry I've heard too much about?”

“Oh, my God. It's...simultaneously the worst and best thing I've ever had. Foggy had three shots and started a game of Spin the Bottle, which, of course, is kinda hard to play with just two people.”

“Excuse me! There was more than two people! Josie refused to kiss me, though.” The rejection in his voice is heartfelt.

“Yeah, yeah,” Josie mutters. She sets a bottle down in front of them. “I'm not the only one.”

"Oh, my heart! It bleeds!"

Karen giggles as Foggy fakes crying. She pours a shot for each of them.

“Matt'll kiss me, won't you, Matt? We're bros like that.” Foggy drops his arm onto Matt's shoulders.

Instead of gasping like a fish, which he actually considered, Matt finds the shot and downs it. Karen laughs again, covering her mouth. She picks up her shot and downs it, too.

Matt coughs, on reflex. Wow. Life Cry really is...something.

“I feel like I should be offended. I should sue you for slander!” Foggy takes his shot and then awkwardly pours them all another.

Karen, giggling, takes her shot immediately. Matt takes his slower, reluctantly grabbing the sticky glass. It smells like diesel fuel, and he really doesn't want to drink any more. Beside him, Foggy chokes his down. Well. Peer pressure is a thing.

Foggy was right, it does taste like regret.

“Have you ever...done voice work?” Matt asks before he chickens out.

“Voice work? Like cartoon characters?” Karen sounds confused.

“Or audiobooks? Oh! Like the voice on your screen reader?”

Matt focuses on Foggy's heartbeat as he nods. “Yes, like that. Have you?”

“Nope. Too busy being a lawyer! Marci did tell me I have a voice for radio, though.” He puffs out his chest with pride.

“Aw, Foggy, no!” Karen puts her face in her hands. “That's..not a good thing!” She starts laughing. Matt, momentarily confused when Foggy's heartbeat remained truthful, chuckles.

“What? Why isn't it a good thing? It means my voice is sexy, intriguing, full of character!”

_Oh God yes it is_ , Matt agrees. _So, so much so_.

“It also means you...it means you don't have...” She grabs the bottle and pours herself another shot, laughing so hard she snorts.

“It means you don't have a face for TV, buddy. That's what it means.” Matt finishes her sentence.

“What?!” Foggy squawks, so Matt ( _heart pounding_ ) drapes his arm around Foggy.

“But you know what? Fuck Marci.”

“Oooh that would make a great toast!” Karen scrambles to fill their empty glasses with more dragon tears. “Ok, let's do this.” There's the gentle displacement of air signifing Karen has lifted her glass into the air. "Fuck Marci!"

Matt picks his up, waits for Karen to bring hers closer. A brush against his finger tells him she's brought her glass into position. “Fuck Marci,” he says with a smile. He turns his head to Foggy.

Foggy sighs heavily. He lifts his glass. “I fucked her.”

They burst out laughing, spilling their drinks as they maneuver them to their mouths.

“Well, technically she fucked me.” Foggy murmurs.

The laughter continues into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life Cry is a fictional hooch from the BBC Show Black Books. As Fran says, "Ahhh. You always know you're in for a good night when there a polar bear bleeding on the label."


	4. What If Foggy Had Horse Bits?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between Josie's and Matt's apartment, the bottle they all split of Life Cry loosens some tongues.
> 
> (almost to more smut, I swear!)

4 AM finds a very drunk Foggy and Matt helping an equally intoxicated and affectionate Karen into a cab.

“No, really! I love you guys. I really, really do,” she sighs dramatically. “I would marry you both, if it were legal. You're lawyers! Is it legal?"

“I'll look into it? It would have to be a a a drive-through wedding, because? Because I'm too lazy!” Foggy decides. “We would need a designated driver, though.” He snorts, and it's so adorable, the others start laughing too.

Karen asks the cab driver, “Know any drive-through wedding chapels?”

“Go home, Karen!” Foggy and Matt say in unison. She falls through the cab door, laughing. They shut the door, and away she goes.

Then they flag down another for themselves.

“Do you really need me to escort you home? Like some sort of prom date?” Foggy giggles. Matt nods so hard he feels like his head falls off. He overbalances and has to clutch to Foggy's jacket. They both laugh about it for a minute. “Guess that's a yes.” A cab rolls up and Foggy manages to open the door while still holding Matt stable. He grabs Matt's cane and tosses it inside. “Milady?”

Matt falls in, and Foggy slides in after him, pushing him to the other side of the car. He gives the address to the driver, and they start out.

Matt, with all the grace of a two year old velociraptor, tries and fails to get his seat belt on, his senses and balance completely fucked. He keeps grabbing the wrong buckle, and the wrong belt, and Foggy tolerates it because it's the funniest thing he's seen all night, but eventually helps him buckle up because he doesn't want to risk Matt's life in a fiery crash, if it comes to it. He's seen the movies, sometimes the hero's in a cab when a villain smashes into the side of it. He will not be collateral damage.

Matt lets his head flop onto Foggy's shoulder, and he's quiet for a few minutes. Foggy pets his head fondly.

“'M gonna throw up,” Matt mumbles.

“Ew! No!” Foggy pushes his head away from his shoulder. “Though I would totes hold your hair back for you. I am not...above getting my hands dirty. if I need to. But still, ew.”

“If he is going to throw up, you'll have to get out. I just had this baby washed,” the cabbie glares back at them.

“Meh, we're almost there, pull over. Matt. Matt. Maaaaaattt. Matty. Matt.” Foggy shoves Matt's shoulder. “Wake up. We're walking. Matt.”

The cab pulls over and Foggy carefully extricates his friend from the seat belt, and carefully pokes him in the cheek. He wakes up with a jolt and flails for a bit, but calms when one of his hands finds Foggy's.

“Foggy!” He grins, and allowing Foggy to pull him from the vehicle, his other hand finding his cane on the seat beneath him, yawns. “I don't think you...you have a face for radio.”

While Foggy sorts through the bills in his pocket, he's only half-listening. “Mmm?” He finds the right amount and hands the driver the money.

“I said,” Matt finds Foggy's arm and clings like a pilot fish. “You don't have a face for radio.”

“For all you know, Matty, I might not have a face at all. I could be a horse, and you wouldn't even know. A man body and a horse face.” Foggy starts walking in what he thinks is the right direction.

“I...I would know. I'd smell your horse bits.” Matt grins, tucking his face into Foggy's shoulder.

“Oh? My horse 'bits,' you say? Are you...ass...asss-uming I'd have horsey bits beyond my face horse bits?”

“Maybe.” Matt laughs. “I'd smell you.”

“Which part? NEVER MIND. Forget I asked!”

“But! You have a voice for radio. And for, for other things.” Matt blushes, despite the chill in the air, despite the fact that he can barely walk straight. Despite a lot of things.

“Other things? Is this about that cartoon thing? I might...might look like a cartoon, I'll have you know, but I am a real person. With real feelings! And real...I forgot what I was going to say. Real Things! And Real Stuff, too!”

Luckily, they turn the corner and find themselves at Matt's apartment building. Foggy half-pushes Matt up the stairs to the door, and stands there supporting him while he fumbles in his jacket for his key.

“Are you coming up?” Matt doesn't have the willpower or the brainpower to disguise the hope in his voice.

“Are we...continuing the prom date...thingy? Does your dress have too many straps? Do you need me to take your cherry, too?” Foggy giggles.

“I'll have you know, this dress is Armani!” He finally manages the door and falls through, only not face-planting on the ground when Foggy grabs the back of his jacket. 

It's an unspoken agreement that has Foggy helping Matt up the stairs. He didn't need much encouragement to help Matt when the 'supposed superhero' could barely walk straight.

When they get to his door, Matt starts laughing for no reason that Foggy can catch.

“What? What _what_ what? Are you laughing at me? I can't believe you're laughing at me! I have feelings!” 

But Matt just gasps out, between laughs, “Theodore!”

Foggy stands up straight. “What did you say?” His voice looses the carefree drunken drawl of seconds earlier. Matt's laughter dies slowly. He registers the fast pulse, the smell of sweat. Foggy's nervous? Scared? Angry? Too much alcohol in his system to remember all the other cues. He just stops.

Just stops. And whispers, “Theodore?” And, not waiting to regret opening his big dumb mouth, fits his key in the lock and turns the handle.


	5. Foggy Finds Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt regrets everything.
> 
> Also, awkward boner.

“Wait, Matt-” Foggy is a step behind Matt. “Wait.” 

Matt, ignoring Foggy, drops his cane and stumbles towards his couch. Behind him, Foggy bangs into something and curses, reaching for the light switch.

“Matt.”

Matt falls onto the couch and curls up, pulling a couch cushion over his head. Ugh, the fabric feels like sandpaper. 

“Maaaaaaaaaaatt.” Foggy collapses on the end of the couch not taken up with Matt's feet. “Hey. Hey. Hey. I'll keep saying Hey until you sit up and talk to me. Hey. _Hey_. Hey. Hey's a weird word. _H-aaaayyy_.”

“Foggy stop.”

“Sit up and tell me how you know that name and I will. Hey. Hey. Heeey.”

Matt doesn't sit up and there's a small lapse in annoying noises. Matt's brain is doing the spinny thing, so he completely misses that Foggy's moved until his voice is right in front of Matt's face, whispering, “Hey. _Daredevil_.”

And, _fuck it_ , Matt actually scrambles backwards against the couch arm and strategically places the pillow over his crotch, because, yeah. Foggy said that word in that voice and Matt had a goddamn flashback to the reason he's in this fine mess.

“There he is! Now, tell me what Marci told you.”

Matt blanks. Marci? What?

“First, I don't wanna know why she thought it imperative that my best friend knows about our sex life? Also, I didn't even know you two were on gossipy eleven-year-olds-at-a-sleepover friend status, and how did I miss that? Why wasn't I at that sleepover? Why didn't you braid my hair and paint my nails?”

“F-Foggy.” Matt tries again. “Foggy, I don't. I didn't...Marci?”

“Yes, Matt, do try to keep up. Why did Marci think you should know about my bedroom voice?!”

A beat.

“Your...bedroom voice?” Matt's voice actually climbs an octave.

“Uh, yeah. Theodore. The other Roosevelt boy. The voice I make when I'm being all seductive and slutty and...wait. You look too confused for life right now. You...didn't know about Theodore?”

“I, um, knew about...the voice. I didn't know why or...or Marci-related things.”

“Okay, start over. How did you find out about my... about Theodore?”

“Um.” Matt gulps. “I sorta...found it.”

“I am _beyond_ confused right now. What do you mean you found it? Found it where? How?”

“On...online.” Matt blushes.

“Okay, what? WHAT. How did my sex voice get online? How did-ah!” Foggy falls off the couch. There's a not-very-painful sounding thump and then silence. Matt considers investigating, but is too stricken by embarrassment to move.

“Foggy?”

“No, no. This is better. I can. I can think better. Your floor is cold. I'm trying to. To think. How did my sex voice....No! Nooooooooooooo. MARCI. THAT BITCH!”

“Fuck Marci,” Matt says automatically. Unable to help himself, he dissolves into peals of laughter again.

“Oh. Oh my God. It's all coming back to me now. Oh Jesus.”

“Hey...” Matt protests halfheartedly between giggles.

“Fuck off, Matt, I'm having a rage. ARGH!”

“What...” Matt stops giggling. “What happened?”

“Oh, you know. Fella goes over to his lady's dorm. Lady gets him mad drunk. They have the sexy times. Lady forces her fella to read a bunch of weird sentences while she blows him. UGH. That's...so illegal. She fucking recorded me. Without. My. Permission.” Foggy slams a fist against the side of the couch to punctuate his anger.

_That's why he didn't remember,_ Matt muses. _He was drunk. He wasn't lying, he honestly didn't remember._

“I'm going to call her.” Foggy announces.

Matt makes some sort of noise in indignation. “It's early. Eeeearrrrly. Sun's not even. Not even up? Is the sun up? I can't see.” Matt laughs, once. 

“Fuck this. She was in the same classes! She should know better! WAIT.” Foggy sits up fast. “Wait. You said you found it online?”

Matt must have nodded, though he wishes Foggy would go back to hatred of Marci and forget that Matt mentioned finding his bedroom voice in the beginning.

“Where? Where online, Matt? Is my worst nightmare confirmed? Am I...gasp! A cartoon character?!” Foggy crawls awkwardly to Matt's side of the couch. “Is it true? Give it to me straight. Am I a cartoon, Daredevil?” He says this last bit in the Theodore voice, though there's a threat of humorous intent.

Matt represses a shuddering breath. His mouth has gone dry. He swallows a couple times, and in that awkward silence, Foggy lunges.

Half-kneeling, half-standing, Foggy grabs Matt's couch pillow and throws it across the room. “Am I-!....uh.” 

The pillow gone, the front of Matt's pants revealed to be tenting, Foggy freezes.

Matt freezes. Almost literally, too, it being quite chilly in his pre-dawn living room.

Matt's brain goes offline. Just. Derails. TV Static, white noise, full stop. All he hears is Foggy's heart ratcheting up to the Danger Zone, and Foggy's breath increasing in pace, and Foggy gulping, and Foggy...just.

Foggy Foggy Foggy.

Foggy clears his throat. “Hey, uh. Matt. Why...Um. You...you okay?” Foggy settles back on the floor.

Slowly, with the speed of a pre-2000s computer, Matt's brain reboots.

“Yes. Fine. You?” 

Not the most elegant rejoinder, but there it is.

“You going to, ah, explain?”

“Explain wha-”

“Oh my God is this about Theodore?” Foggy says all in a rush. “Is this about my sex voice? Oh my God you did say you found it online. And earlier today you asked if I had done voice work...like on your screen reader. IS MY SEX VOICE ON YOUR SCREEN READER MATT?!”

There are no more pillows on his couch. _I should get more couch pillows_ , Matt's brain suggests.

“DID YOU LISTEN TO MY SEX VOICE ON YOUR SCREEN READER.” Foggy's voice is so loud. Matt refuses to acknowledge him. _Maybe he will leave_ , Matt's sleepy brain suggests.

Foggy does not leave. Foggy does stop yelling, though. He stands up, wobbling only just a bit, and walks around to the back of the couch. Then he bends down, aligns his mouth with Matt's ear, and asks in Theodore's voice, “What were you listening to in this voice, Matt? What did you hear me say to you?”

And Matt can't clamp down on the shuddering indrawn breath, or the little whimper that escapes. He clutches the godawful scratchy upholstery fabric in his fists and only manages to catch himself from leaning into Foggy's warmth.

Foggy, however, just goes, “So that's how it is.”

And, stumbling only slightly, walks out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I S2G there is so much sex coming up in the next/last chapter! BE PATIENT, MY DUCKLINGS


	6. Foggy Talks Dirty, Says "Fuck" A Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is out, the sex you have all been waiting for has finally arrived. If you hate f bombs, run away. Run fast.

The next day, Matt is a wreck with a capital W. He has a hangover worse than anything he'd ever experienced in college, what feels like a carpet burn from sleeping on his shitty couch, and about sixteen tons of guilt and depression smothering him.

Foggy _knows_.

Foggy knows _Matt listened to his sex voice_.

Foggy knows Matt _liked listening to Foggy's voice_.

And Foggy _left_.

Whelp.

This is it. _This is what your shitty kinks get you_ , his now-cognizant brain informs him with the strategic precision of a scalpel. _First the fanfiction, then the voice, now you've lost your best friend again, you fucker, only this time you can't unwind time._

_You can't apologize for getting extremely aroused when your best friend talks. You can't! You can't go back from this. You can't go “Oops, my mistake, I thought you were someone else” like NOPE. You dug this goddamn hole and you laid down in the bottom and pulled the dirt onto your shitty body._

_You'll have to break up the law firm. You'll have to...what? What does life hold outside of law? You can't be a full-time hero, you've got to pay the bills._

That's when Matt realizes there's a knock at the door. That there's been a knock at the door for a while. He listens, past the death knell of a migraine, tries to focus: is it Foggy? Does he recognize the heartbeat and the scent? Cologne? Shampoo? Fuck alcohol.

What the fuck time is it?

“Go away, I died last night,” Matt shouts/groans. The door opens. He lifts his head: it's Foggy.

_Shit._

“I'm sorry, I'm fresh out of boners,” Matt laughs hollowly into the sofa cushions.

“Right, so, I called Marci. Turns out she had some shitty Linguistics project where she had to donate her voice to a voice bank for extra credit? So she got me drunk, right, and coerced me into agreement, which is technically _non-binding_ since I was intoxicated, and then performed oral sex on me so my voice would remain at Theodore-levels of sexiness while I read this ridiculous list of sentences. I had chalked it all up to a weird sex dream I had had but apparently it is _very real_.”

“So many words. How you talk when pain?” Matt whimpers.

“I am totally in pain! I'm also extremely caffeinated and motivated. So.” Foggy walks over and fucking looms over Matt, who is still rumpled and dead on the couch. The Matt-shaped corpse moans, to prove a point.

Foggy crouches so his face is level with Matt's. He takes a deep breath.

 _Here we go,_ Matt thinks, _destroy years of friendship. Because of your awkward boner._

“I also went to the office and listened to your screen reader.”

Matt's whole body jerks. Foggy's not done.

“Very _naughty_ boy,” Foggy murmurs in his Theodore voice. “Daredevil fanfiction? I didn't know you were so deliciously _vain_.”

Matt's dead body immediately revives. His blood starts pumping, heads south.

“Mmm. Didn't know I would like it so much either. Did you know your lube drawer is out of tissues? I got so... _filthy_. Had to lick myself clean.”

Matt sits up quick. His head throbs, but it's a minor issue. He groans, and it's not from pain. Foggy straightens up just enough so he can kneel on the couch, positioning himself between Matt's legs.

“But I saved a taste for you, Daredevil. Want my finger in your mouth? You wanna taste?” 

Matt, so fucking turned on and in a tiny bit of disbelieving shock, opens his mouth obediently.

Foggy slides his palm over Matt's cheek and stubble, runs his thumb underneath Matt's lip and gently slides it into Matt's mouth.

Aw, _fuck._

Matt closes his mouth, sucks the taste of Foggy's cum from his skin, salt-sweet and bitter. He swirls his tongue around the pad of Foggy's thumb, moans with it, his whole body an electric shock.

“Take it,” Foggy-as-Theodore orders. “Fuck. You're so goddamn pretty, Matt. When I first saw you, remember I told you? You fucking blushed then. I'd never backpedaled so fucking hard in my life. You blushing now? Look at your mouth. I could _fuck_ that mouth.”

As if to demonstrate, Foggy brings a leg up and over Matt's, climbing in close, almost straddling him. He bucks into Matt's body, feels his hard length, matches it with his own.

Matt gasps. In the instant his mouth opens, Foggy replaces his thumb with his lips. Licks all the secrets from Matt's hot wet mouth. Kisses him filthily, unashamed. Matt thinks desperately, _I could come from this. I might, actually._

And then, because Matt might be an eavesdropper but Foggy is a fucking _mind reader_ , Foggy breaks the kiss and grinds into Matt. And – oh Jesus – it's not enough, but it's too much. Matt's skin sings with want, his nerves not the only thing on fire right now.

“Yessss,” Foggy hisses. “Fuck.” He does it again, pressing so close, like he's trying to climb inside Matt.

“Too much,” Matt pants, “Clothes. Too many clothes.”

“Right,” Foggy agrees, but only manages to lift Matt's shirt up over his head before Matt is moaning like a goddamn porn star and Foggy is terribly distracted by his body.

“Oh was that too much?” Theodore-as-Foggy pants. “What I want to do to your body. I'm glad you can't see yourself because you'd go all Narcissus on yourself and I'd be fucking Echo fading away watching you. Jesus.” Foggy runs his nails across Matt's chest, and he can't help but arch into it, throw his head back and whine.

“Don't you fucking whine,” Foggy grunts. “Why we're on the goddamn couch when we could be on silk sheets, I don't even.” And, though the angle is awkward, Foggy leans in and bites _fucking bites_ down on Matt's collarbone.

Matt shouts. He might actually cry. This is. He can't.

“Oh, so Daredevil does actually like that. It turned me the fuck on to read that, _Matthew_ ,” Oh and he says his full name like a curse, like a benediction, “I wanted to wait, to see if you would suit up. And then I'd follow you. And I'd be that anonymous man in that fic. I'd run my tongue along the lines in your suit, just to see if you could feel it. I'd let you leave the mask on, too, because you're so hot in it. I know I made fun of it, and of the little horns, but you are the best kind of sin, Matthew.”

Matt might just die. All his senses are peaked, functioning like a high voltage telephone wire to nowhere. He's just...almost...

“Next time, I want you to fuck me,” Foggy-not-Theodore _growls_. 

And like that, Matt comes.

It's hot and messy and so unbelievably perfect Matt actually does cry. He screams, “Foggy!” and tears run down his cheeks and he feels Foggy buck against him and follow him into ecstasy, the front of his body a warm wet heat that is only a tiny bit uncomfortable.

Foggy collapses against shirtless-but-not-pantsless Matt and half-heartedly licks the sweat from his neck. Matt shivers.

“Next time, I'll wear the suit,” Matt whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! It's an actual thing! http://theatln.tc/1zLuxmj


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day is full of surprises.

After Matt and Foggy athletically let off a half a decade of steam in the _steamiest_ way, they found themselves arriving at the office the next day a little later than normal. 

Their brains on vacation, they didn't think anything of it when they arrived to an empty office. Sure, it was later in the day than usual. Sure, Karen would normally be there already, two cold cups of coffee from the cafe down the street waiting on their desks. They walked in, arm-in-arm like usual (though really, not like usual at all), and spent perhaps ten minutes lazily making out on top of the conference table.

Until they heard footsteps. Hurried footsteps. Coming up the stairs, no, _stomping_ up the stairs. They broke away hurriedly and tried to brush the wrinkles out of their suits.

“Hair?” Matt asked Foggy, pointing at his head. Foggy wiggles his hand, now that he knows Matt can “see” his weird gestures. Matt frowns and pats at his head.

If Foggy had his way, Matt would _always_ have bed head.

The door to their office flies open, and by that time, Matt and Foggy look like two regular law partners, talking about law stuff at their conference table. But their appearances don't matter, because it's Karen.

And Karen looks _pissed_.

“Uh, hey there buddy,” Foggy tries to calm her awkwardly. “Karen...How...how you doing?”

“You!” She stomps right over to him and prods him in the middle of his chest. “URGH!” She makes some sort of frustrated grunt and spins to Matt. “And YOU! I can't _believe_ this!”

She stomps over to Matt's desk and beckons them over.

“What's happening?” Matt whispers. 

“You'll know when I do? She's gone completely T-Rex on us, man.” They stand slowly and follow her to Matt's office.

“So this morning,” she starts to talk, and her voice is that kind of sugar-sweet tone with a vicious edge usually reserved for racist grandmothers. “We had a visitor. A client! A potential client. I called you, but you didn't pick up. I called _both_ of you.” She pauses and glares at them. Flicking a glance at Foggy, she adds, “I'm glaring at you, Matt.”

“Yes, um. Thanks for telling me?” Matt nudges Foggy, and his elbow clearly says _You forgot to translate her face expressions because I'm technically still blind._

“Sorry, rough morning,” Foggy mutters, and, behind his back, rakes his fingers over Matt's butt. Matt jumps, but only slightly. “She just glared at you, Matt.”

“Thanks Foggy,” Matt says through gritted teeth. “You were saying, Karen?”

"And since I couldn't get through to either of you, I thought maybe you had left your phones. I checked Foggy's office, no phone. I checked Matt's office, no phone. However,” and _goddamnit_ if that word didn't have a knife twist in it, “I accidentally hit a key on Matt's screen reader.”

Matt feels like he just parkoured off a particularly high roof. 

_Oh no._

_No, no no. She didn't._

Foggy gasps sharply.

“And as I'm sure you know, something started...playing.”

Matt gulps and frantically tries to imagine all the ways they can play this. 

“...And the client heard.”

Foggy turns away like he can't stand to have Karen look at him with that judgmental face. She's heard his sex voice. There can be no secrets between them!

“And I think it's safe to say we lost that deal. And they think we're a bunch of perverts, thanks. Thanks, Matt. I could have had a paycheck.”

There's the sort of silence that usually follows a nuclear bomb: everyone's dead, there are no survivors. Matt certainly feels like a shadow of himself.

“On the bright side,” and Karen's truly evil self appears, “I now know a whole lot more about my two best friends.” 

Matt feels Foggy's whole body stiffen, and then relax. And then Foggy half-turns back to Karen. “Oh, do you?” But he's looking at Matt. His whole body is facing Matt. “Go on.”

“Like how Matt seems to enjoy the raunchiest Daredevil porn?” Karen says it like she's saving it later for blackmail purposes. Which she might be?

“He does,” Foggy smiles. Matt can taste that smile. He licks his lips.

“And Foggy likes to read it to him.”

“He...does,” Matt agrees. His breathing's gone shallow. 

“You forgot one thing.” Foggy has leaned in a little to Matt's warmth. Matt responds, oh does he respond.

“Did I?” Karen's voice is practically a whisper. “Enlighten me.”

Foggy kisses Matt. It's not at all like the couch kiss, in that it's all for show. It's practically not a kiss at all, but a pressing of open lips to gasping mouth, a demonstration in how hot it could be if Foggy let it. He slides a hand up the back of Matt's head and just holds his face in one hand as he nips at Matt's bottom lip.

When he pulls his face away, Matt has to reign himself in. He's acutely aware of how close Karen is standing, and how much closer Foggy could be. There's a tension in the room, buzzing like a live wire.

And Karen breaks it with a “Oh.”

Just a little puff of air, but Foggy turns to face her, his hand still on Matt's head. What next?

“I was. Um. I was going to say,” Karen clears her throat, and Matt can hear her heart hammer away in her chest. “Um.” She appears to have lost her train of thought. Possibly because Foggy has just slipped his other hand up Matt's shirt. Matt shifts, trying to disguise...things.

“Yes?” He says it all polite, as if he, her boss, was not feeling up her other boss in front of her. There's like a million sexual harassment suits she could pull right now.

“I was going to say, did you like my fic?”

Both of the guys freeze.

“What?” Matt squeaks.

“She's blushing,” Foggy says, genuine awe in his voice.

“The fic on your screen reader? I, um. I wrote it?” There's a note of pride in her voice, beneath all the embarrassment.

“Oh fuck.” Foggy says, eloquently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many people wanted there to be more, and I felt like I had to share the joy.


End file.
